


Secrets and Sneaks

by Isolophiliac



Series: Idiosyncrasy Among Brothers [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Brotherly Love, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isolophiliac/pseuds/Isolophiliac
Summary: It takes a lot for someone to turn out the way Damian Wayne did, especially at only eleven-years-old, but discovering just how the League of Assassins went about this turns out to be a little more accidental and a lot more horrifying than any of the boys could've thought.





	1. Secrets and Sneaks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the best at writing fight scenes... You've been warned.

"Dami?" Dick Grayson called quietly as he peaked around Damian's bedroom door, his sapphire eyes scanning across his little brother's animal infested bedroom. Alfred The Cat was sitting curled up on Damian's bed, staring unblinkingly at the yellow canary (how the hell did that get in here?) sitting on Damian's bookshelf. Titus was gone, Damian had taken him out on a walk Dick figured, knowing that if the younger boy had left to train he would've brought Alfred The Cat (and his new Canary friend) to the Batcave along with Titus too.

Damian and his strays were a group deal, he was rarely without at least one of them.

"The coast is clear," Dick informed, turning his head to the two boys standing stealthily behind him. Tim and Jason grinned and exchanged mischievous looks, the three boys had been plotting Damian's initiation in their little family for quite some time and now that they had gotten to get know the boy a little bit better since his unexpected arrival they were all itching for a chance to prank him, especially Jason who refused to forget (or let go of) what would forever be referred to as 'the helmet incident'.

"Perfect," Jason smirked as the three brothers slipped into Damian's bedroom, quietly closing the door behind them. Damian Wayne's bedroom was as about as complex as the boy himself, to an untrained eye the room was simple, far too clean to be any normal eleven-year-old boys bedroom, but simple all the same. A neatly made bed with a plain black comforter was pushed against one wall, away from all of the extravagant windows and with one side pressed completely against the wall, a barren desk sat parallel to the bed, all stray papers, pens, and notebooks tucked away into their rightful drawers.

"Man this place is clean," Jason remarked as he strode across the square room, avoiding (most) of the booby traps, choosing to ignore the Chinese rin dagger that had implanted itself into the wall mere centimeters away from his head.

"Like father, like son," Tim muttered in agreement, fingering in the heavy grey curtains that blocked out almost all natural light.

Like father, like son was perhaps the saying that could ever fit into Damian's complicated and ever-changing part of the universe, but at the same time, it never could. Damian and his father were very alike yet at the same time so different attempting to make sense of it could make even the smartest of people's head spin.

Damian and Bruce were both sullen and sulky, they carried a silent melancholy air about themselves every possible moment, yet Damian was constantly changing, his easily hidden goals and fears always influenced by the people around him, where Bruce was a man set in his ways Damian was a boy still trying to find his place despite the fact he'd been told his entire life where exactly that place should be.

Jason immediately began rummaging through the desk drawers, carelessly throwing surprisingly good sketches all over the desk until…

Thump.

"Hun," Jason remarked, tapping his knuckles against the bottom of the desk drawer, surprised when he was rewarded, once again with the familiar thumping sound. The bottom of the desk drawer was hollow… which meant.

"Ha!" Jason exclaimed as he pulled the false bottom out of the drawer revealing a plain, nondescript USB Drive. "Wonder what he's got hidden on this thing." He muttered to himself, pulling it out from his hiding place.

Tim shrugged, joining Jason at the sturdy wooden desk. "Who knows."

"Let's find out," Dick smirked, pulling the USB from Jason's grasp and running out of Damian's room and into the Batcave, the two other boys following closely behind. It took Dick only a few minutes to dig his Laptop out of the hidden compartment in his motorcycle and another couple minutes for Tim to decipher the encryption code (and Jason said that mathletes were an 'overly nerdy' waste of time) before they managed to gain access to the contents of the USB drive.  
"It's just two videos." Tim realized, clicking on one of the two sole contents.

The video started in a plain room with nothing but darkness and wood paneling.

"Gah!"

Suddenly two figure became apparent in the shadows.

A slightly younger Damian, maybe eight or nine years old was laying on his stomach, sprawled out on the floor with blood seeping through his plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

"What the hell?!" Jason exclaimed, looking a little taken back by the scene unfolding on the screen in front of him.

A man was looming over Damian, tall and muscular with dark, greying hair and an olive complexion as dark as copper.

Ra's Al Ghul stared emotionlessly down at his grandson, his cold eyes filled with disapproval.

"Get up." he spat, glaring at Damian as he struggled to his feet. The boy had obviously taken a beating, his usually olive skin was sickly pale and speckled with purples, blues, yellows and greens from older bruises, blood was running down his limbs from various cuts.

The moment Damian managed to get to his feet was the moment Ra's Al Ghul began his attack, sending a relentless series of kicks and punches in Damian's direction. Damian dodged the first few punches sent his way, flipping and ducking out of harm's way.

The three boys stared, not knowing what to do. They all knew why Damian had hidden this, he hated everything and anything that he felt might make anyone see him as weak, even if it didn't.

Ra's Al Ghul finally landed a punch, sending Damian to the floor. Tim immediately paused the video, not wanting to see what they all knew would come next.

"Shit," Jason said, his gaze unmoving from the still computer screen.

"Why would he have this?" Tim interjected, equally shocked as he was stupefied.

"Because he's Damian," Jason replied, not knowing what else to say.

Throughout it all Dick stayed uncharacteristically silent, his arms crossed over his chest and his lip in between his teeth. The acrobat was lost in thought, not at all liking where those thoughts were taking him.

"What's the other video?" Jason asked after a long, silent pause.

They all stayed silent as Tim started typing away.

The next video took place in the same dark room, except this time there were two chairs standing in it.

Tim's eyes widened as he recognized the two figure trapped with the wooden chairs, their arms, legs, and torsos bound to the two separate wooden structures. Damian now somewhere between six and eight was tied to one of the chairs, tugging futilely at the bonds that held him. A man in his mid-fifties sat across from him, bound in a similar fashion and struggling to free himself just as desperately.

A table stood in between them and on it a simple hunting knife lay, it wasn't long before the older man broke free, making a mad dash for the knife the man lunged forwards and…

Damian moved just in time, throwing his chair back as the knife embedded itself in the back of his chair. The chair broke from the impact and Damian quickly pulled free of the restraints that previously held him.

Tim watched; his gaze far off and distant.

Jason's nails dug into his palms.

Dick's fists clenched.

Damian spun onto his back, kicking the man away from his small frame as he rose to his feet. This didn't seem to discourage Damian's attacker in the slightest as the man threw himself at Damian once again, cutting open the younger boy's arm with the large hunting knife.

The man seemed to have gained the upper hand, with the knife raised above his head and Damian pinned to the floor under his immense weight. The man plunged the knife downwards, certain of his victory and just as the knife was about to break his skin Damian raised his arm and easily disarmed the overconfident man, grabbing the knife with his free hand and…

Dick slammed his laptop shut, his nails dripping with the blood they'd drawn from his palms.  
The boys sat in silence, unsure of how to react.

"Damn." Jason broke the silence, and the boys found they had nothing else to say.


	2. Confrontations and Comparability

Jason didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of there, that he had to do something to break apart the haunted memories he'd just witnessed. When he looked back Jason could still feel the cold metal of that blasted crowbar against his burning skin, the dread as he watched the numbers get lower and lower on the bomb's timer.

Damian was eleven, eleven and he'd felt that pain, that dread even if it hadn't been in the same way he had. Damian, of all people, had been betrayed and broken and then molded into something before he could even understand it was wrong... like him.

Never before had Jason ever dared think something like this, that there could be someone out there who been through what he had and to think, even for a moment that Damian fucking Wayne of all people could be was one thought process Jason definitely did not want to follow.  
He was alone, Jason couldn't afford to think otherwise, not with the life he'd lived, not with how he was living. Sure, taking part in a couple pranks and some mischief-making with his ex-foster siblings wasn't exactly the definition of alone, but either way, he felt as though he had no one, or at least that's what he'd told himself, what he always told himself.

How could someone, how could anyone do that to their own flesh and blood? Their own family? Steal away their free will, their life like that? It was far too similar to how his mother, his true mother had done to him for comfort.

They were not alike, they just couldn't be.

Yet here he was, sitting on Wayne Manor's rooftop staring out at the familiar darkness of Gotham's rainy days, contemplating that maybe, just maybe they were.

"What are you doing out here?" Damian voice, not exactly cold yet void of anything other than counterfeit contempt sounded from behind him, causing Jason to turn towards the source of the sound.

Damian was leaning against an open window slightly above and to the right of where Jason was sitting, his arms crossed and his face a mask of expressionless stoic veiling his childish curiosity. Before replying Jason did a quick window count, almost immediately registering which exact hallway Damian was standing in.  
"I could ask the same thing to you," Jason spoke after short silence filled with nothing but the two boys calculating glances, motioning towards the setting sun. "Isn't this usually about the time you're jumping into the Batmobile?"

Damian's impassive look transformed into his customary scowl as he pulled himself out of the window and onto the rooftop, sliding down next to the older man before settling into a slightly defensive yet similarly open position with one of his legs tucked into his chest and the other swinging over the edge. "Father thought it best for me to remain here at present." Damian's reply was simple and cold, yet the very fact that he'd climbed down next to Jason contradicted his tone of voice greatly.

Jason let out a huff of breath somewhere in between a laugh and a knowing sigh. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

"I don't need your... sympathy, Todd." Damian scoffed and for the first time Jason couldn't help but notice how Damian struggled to find that one word, sympathy, a word that should not have been foreign to someone his age and education.

"It's not sympathy, Bat-Brat," Jason retorted, rolling his hooded eyes, eyes the same shade of blue as an uncut aquamarine crystal. "Just the truth, whether you like it or not."

"I did not mention my, or any emotion towards your previous statement," Damian replied monotonously, earning himself another eye roll.

"It's not because he doesn't trust you, ya' know?" Jason continued anyways, saying something he knew he had to get off his chest.

"What else could be?" Damian questioned in return, his voice hollow.

Jason looked out towards the sun, which was now almost completely hidden by the tall trees of Gotham's countryside.

"He doesn't want you to get hurt... To end up like me."

Damian remained silent, not knowing what to say.

"But you're not... You're not like me…"

Jason pushed himself up onto his feet, Damian remained seated.

"You can still choose if you're going become the monster everyone else is trying to make you out to be."

Jason pulled himself up through the window, keeping his back turned to the boy staring at his leather-clad back.

"Monsters are made, not born and it's best you remember that cause' like it or not you're not a monster, you're not a weapon until you let yourself be... and... I and all those _goody two shoes_ you've gotten yourself stuck with don't want that to happen so you better not disappoint."

Jason barely heard the words Damian muttered next, but they made him stop dead in his tracks all the same.

_"I won't... And neither have you."_


End file.
